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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27341848">journeys end in lovers meeting</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brennuvargur/pseuds/Brennuvargur'>Brennuvargur</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>My Chemical Romance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>BDSM, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Blasphemy, Bondage, Choking, Consent issues inherent in possession, Demonic Possession, Guilt, Haunted Houses, Horror, M/M, Religious Imagery &amp; Symbolism, Under-negotiated Kink</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 00:35:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>19,212</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27341848</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brennuvargur/pseuds/Brennuvargur</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>As he stood in the foyer (<em>foyer!</em>) of his newly purchased home, Frank was having a hard time remembering any of the reasons he'd chosen this house. Because the house he was looking at, was falling apart.</p>
<p>or</p>
<p>Frank moves into a new house and not everything is as it seems</p>
<p>Written for My Trick or Treat Romance, prompt was possession/exorcism</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Frank Iero/Gerard Way</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>My Trick or Treat Romance</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>journeys end in lovers meeting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This fic would not have been possible without all my wonderful friends on bmib, you know who you are, I love you all very much. Also shoutout to Anabella for always being there for me when I need a beta.</p>
<p>I was aiming for a The Haunting of Hill House/Woman in Black vibe (books, not TV show/films), but I might have ended up a little bit more The Magnus Archives. I hope you enjoy anyway &lt;3</p>
<p>Title from Shakespeare, via The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He told himself the fresh air would be good for his creativity. The fresh air and the mountain views and the isolated environment, free from the distractions of modern life in the city. The magic solution to all his problems; the writer's block, the melancholy, and the urge to call his ex and beg him to take him back.</p>
<p>As he stood in the foyer (<em>foyer!</em>) of his newly purchased home however, Frank was having a hard time remembering any of the reasons he'd chosen this house. Because the house he was looking at, was falling apart.</p>
<p>How had he allowed the real estate agent to talk him into this?</p>
<p>Okay, so it was probably weatherproof, and it seemed like random rooms here and there had been renovated at different points in time, with different styles, which was a little strange. Some of them half finished with shiny new floors and doors but unpainted walls. Some rooms had windows that looked fairly recent while others he was sure he'd feel every cold breeze coming through it.</p>
<p>A 'project', that was how the agent had described it.</p>
<p>The room he'd been most interested in, the big square room on the ground floor, still looked as good as he remembered though. Plain floors and walls, but a perfect place to set up a little home studio. The room on the second floor he had decided to have as his bedroom was… fine, too. Wooden floors with a not <em>too</em> offensive floral wallpaper on the walls. It would probably drive him crazy within a few weeks but he'd definitely have it fixed up before then. The attic he preferred to avoid. It could probably be a good place for storage, as if the house wasn't big enough, but he didn't like going up there, and seeing the stairs at the end of the bedroom hallway always made him feel strange.</p>
<p>He really should have had it renovated <em>before</em> moving in. He had just been so eager to get away before he did something stupid. Like calling Adam. Again.</p>
<p>Embarrassing.</p>
<p>The most worrying parts of the house were… everything else. The hallways seemed kind of crooked and off center, in an unnerving way that Frank hadn't noticed during his viewing. The floorboards creaked and some of them dipped ominously if stepped on. The paint on the walls was chipped and looked like it was from the 60s. The ceiling in the living room seemed to sag worryingly in the middle, but Frank could never be sure if it was just a trick of the eye depending on where he stood in the room. The walls were a garish bright green that he wanted to get rid of as soon as possible. The kitchen was the saddest part, the appliances probably older than Frank himself, and very dilapidated, though it was a good size with large windows that had been shuttered for some reason.</p>
<p>He could sort of see how it could've been a nice family home at some point, even though it was far removed from those glory days now.</p>
<p>The movers Frank had hired to transport his stuff were due to arrive any moment, so he started walking around, making notes in his head of where he wanted his things to go, which room he had picked for which purpose and so on. When they arrived, the two men worked efficiently and quickly, carrying in all the boxes and furniture to the right place as Frank directed them. He didn't know if he should stand watch over them as they walked or if that was weird, so he hovered on the sidelines, trying not to be in the way. After they left he realized they'd taken a pack of cigarettes he'd left on the table in the foyer, so fuck them. He wouldn't give them a good review for sure.</p>
<p>He spent a few days unpacking boxes, setting up his bedroom and his studio first, surviving mostly on microwave food and not connecting the TV until the silence started getting to him. It only took him three hours to finally get a picture <em>with</em> sound. Ah, the news. Comforting.</p>
<p>Sometimes he found himself getting lost in the large house, even days after he'd moved in. He would take the turn he <em>swore</em> led to the studio but somehow end up in the kitchen. Sometimes the hallways just felt endless, other times like there was an extra step or two between his bedroom and the bathroom at night. It wasn't really something he noticed consciously, but it amplified a feeling of dread deep inside him that he didn't acknowledge explicitly until the day his studio chair disappeared.</p>
<p>Well, it didn't disappear so much as… change. It wasn't his chair, of that he was sure. The back was different and it sat lower and it didn't have wheels on it, and his old chair definitely had wheels on it. He distinctly remembered wheeling from the computer to the table with the microphones to check some setting while he'd been mixing the other day. Now, the chair in his studio was disconcertingly still.</p>
<p>He tried to think of a rational explanation. Was he misremembering? Had he moved the original chair? Had someone broken into his house specifically just to switch out his studio chair? That was ridiculous. And it wasn't like he could call the police to report that his chair had… <em>changed. </em>They'd never take him seriously.</p>
<p>So Frank tried his best to put it out of his mind and continue with his music. He wasn't happy with any of the songs he was writing but at least <em>something</em> was happening, so he counted that as a victory. He spent the day resolutely not thinking about his stationary chair as he worked, and then in the evening he left out the back door and walked the mile or two around the lake just behind the house. He breathed in the fresh air and listened to the birds and watched the calm movements of the water and gazed out towards the mountains and saw the sun go down, and all in all felt very refreshed when he got back home. He almost wanted to go back to the studio, try out some melodies on the guitar, but something stopped him. He didn't want to go back to that room.</p>
<p>He went upstairs to his bedroom (had the stairs always been that long or was he just winded from his walk?) and sat cross-legged on the bed for a while with his computer in his lap, just dicking around and passing the time. When he was yawning so much he couldn't read the buzzfeed article any longer, he put the laptop away and changed into his pajamas.</p>
<p>Just before he turned off all the lights and got into bed, he made a split-second decision of going downstairs and taking the chair from the studio. He just moved it into the living room. It didn't feel right in the studio, somehow. He'd find another chair the next day, maybe go to a shop in town and buy one. Then he climbed back up to the third floor and got into bed. He fell asleep almost instantly, tired from the long day and his walk.</p>
<p>He didn't recognize the room he woke up in the next morning. He was lying on the floor and he was absolutely freezing, his body aching from the lying on the hard floor for what felt like had probably been the whole night. The sun was coming in through a small window high on the wall opposite where Frank was lying. Daytime, then. He sat up and looked around, stretching out his sore limbs. He was wearing his pyjamas at least. Had he sleepwalked? He recognized his surroundings as the attic, which was reassuring and yet disconcerting. At least he wasn't in some stranger's house.</p>
<p>Frank called his mom after he'd climbed down from the attic, had a warm shower to loosen his sore muscles, and ate some breakfast.</p>
<p>"Did I ever sleepwalk as a kid?" he asked, apropos of nothing.</p>
<p>"Hm? No, not that I can remember," his mom replied.</p>
<p>"Alright," Frank said.</p>
<p>"Is everything alright?" his mom asked, ever too perceptive. "Are things going well with the new place?"</p>
<p>"Yeah, everything's fine, it's really nice here," Frank said. Then he told her about his walk around the lake and the sweet little town the house was sitting in. The said their goodbyes, his mom promising to come visit when the renovations were complete.</p>
<p>That was another issue he was having. The estate agent had told Frank there were plenty of skilled trade workers in town, but nobody seemed to want to work for Frank. Or well, they all said they were busy. Maybe this was a busy time of year for them, Frank thought as he was out on another walk, listening to the birds singing, but it was still strange. He just wanted to soundproof his studio a bit better to start with, but still nobody seemed to want to do it. He ended up nailing some pieces of soundproofing to the walls himself, frustrated with the responses he was getting.</p>
<p>One day, just over a week after he'd moved in, Frank was in one of the general stores in town, getting some oat milk, rice cakes and, of course, oreos. He walked into the store, the bell above the door ringing jovially. There were two older men standing in one of the aisles talking, but immediately stopped when they saw Frank. All Frank had heard was "the Grimwood house?" They looked at him guiltily and shuffled out not long after Frank had arrived.</p>
<p>"Hey, were they talking about me?" Frank asked the cashier as he paid.</p>
<p>"Hm? Oh those guys," the guy, who had the largest head of hair Frank had ever seen, said. "They're just old gossips, don't worry about them."</p>
<p>"But they <em>were</em> talking about me then," Frank pressed. The cashier hesitated, pausing as he put Frank's things into a paper bag.</p>
<p>"Well… It's a small town, you're new here, people love novelty, and those old guys have nothing better to do." He handed Frank the bag and his change.</p>
<p>"Okay…"</p>
<p>"There's-" the guy started but cut himself off. Like he couldn't decide whether to tell Frank something or not. He glanced at Frank and then away. "There's some rumours about the house you bought. That it's haunted or something. Just local legend, you know how it is."</p>
<p>"Right," Frank said.</p>
<p>"I'm sure it's just a legend. I'm pretty sure Nicholas died of natural causes."</p>
<p>"Nicholas?"</p>
<p>"The previous owner."</p>
<p>"I met the previous owners," Frank said, furrowing his brows.</p>
<p>"Oh, nobody has really <em>lived</em> in the house for over a decade now," the clerk explained. "People usually just buy the house, intending to renovate it and sell it or something, make a quick buck. But then nothing happens and the house gets sold again a while later.</p>
<p>"Uh…" Frank said.</p>
<p>"I'm sure it's nothing," the guy hurried to say.</p>
<p>"Sure," Frank said.</p>
<p>"I'm Ray by the way," the clerk said. "I've listened to some of your music, you're pretty good."</p>
<p>"Oh, thanks," Frank said. He hadn't really been expecting to get <em>'recognized'</em> in the town but he supposed the story would probably go around eventually. He wasn't like, Britney Spears level famous, but he wasn't a nobody either.</p>
<p>"I used to be a musician too," Ray said. "But someone had to take over the store when my abuelo died."</p>
<p>"Oh, I'm sorry," Frank said.</p>
<p>"Nah, it's okay," Ray waved his hand. "It was a while ago." He smiled at Frank in a way that made Frank decide there and then that he liked him. "I play sometimes with a few friends in the bar down the street on weekends. You should come sometime, meet the locals."</p>
<p>"Sure," Frank said, thinking he probably wouldn't, but having the option was nice.</p>
<p>They said their goodbyes and Frank walked back to his house. It really was on the edge of the town, all alone at the end. Like the rest of the town had grown away from it instead of around it. It stood incredibly solitary, even though there were other houses on the same street. When he'd viewed it originally, Frank had been drawn to that fact, thinking of how he could go straight from his backyard and into the wilderness, and that he wouldn't bother any of his neighbours if inspiration for a song struck at an odd hour. Now, as he closed in on the house with the sinking sun behind him, it made him feel a little uneasy.</p>
<p>That evening he just watched TV, feeling too out of it to even attempt to do any writing. Surely things would be better in the morning with sunlight and a fresh perspective, he thought.</p>
<p>So of course the next morning he woke up after a fitful night's sleep with scratches running down the insides of his forearms.</p>
<p>That was when he called the priest.</p>
<p>Now, Frank wasn't usually a religious person. He'd grown up in Catholicism and he tolerated it fine enough ever since he'd grown out of his rebellious teenage phase, simply because some of the people he cared about most in the world took their Catholic religion very seriously. It just didn't speak much to him personally, and he usually only attended services on special occasions, with his mother and grandmother and the rest of their family.</p>
<p>He noticed the scratches when he was shaving after his shower. He'd been too sleepy in the shower itself, but as his skin started drying and the scratches started itching, his eyes finally glanced across them.</p>
<p>Three lines on each arm, running parallel down the length of his forearms, thin and red.</p>
<p>It gave him an uneasy feeling right away. He tried to match them with his own fingers, and sure, it could've been. He <em>could</em> have scratched himself in his sleep. Maybe he'd been itchy because of some allergies or his skin had been too dry. He definitely <em>could</em> have scratched three perfect lines down each of his forearms in his sleep without waking up.</p>
<p>But he didn't really think that was very likely.</p>
<p>His grandmother's voice from when he was small echoed in his head. She'd told him about how the first house she had lived in with his grandpa, had bad spirits living in it and they had to get a priest to come and bless it. He hadn't believed her at the time, a skeptic even at 9 years old, but now… Well. It couldn't hurt, could it?</p>
<p>The town had one church according to Google maps, and Frank dialed the number listed there without thinking too hard about it.</p>
<p>The line rang, and rang, and rang, and Frank realized that it was Saturday and maybe nobody would answer, and what would he even say if-</p>
<p>"Hello?" said a voice on the other end of the line, and Frank took a second to panic before replying.</p>
<p>"Hi, is this St Katharine's?"</p>
<p>"Yes, this is Father Way speaking, how can I help you?" He was very polite and soft-spoken, and not in the slimy way like some priests Frank had known, but in a reassuring way. Maybe he would be able to help Frank.</p>
<p>"Hi, Father," Frank said, trying not to slip back into 14 year old Catholic schoolboy mode when faced with someone he instinctively knew to be a figure of authority. "My name is Frank Iero, I just recently moved into town."</p>
<p>"Oh yes, the Grimwood house," he said. "I've heard of you." Frank didn't know if he meant Frank's music or just through town gossip. Maybe both.</p>
<p>"Yeah, that's me. I was just wondering if I could get someone over to uh-" God, how could he explain it. "Do a blessing on the house or something?"</p>
<p>"Okay, sure," Father Way said easily. "We do that regularly for people when they move into new homes. When would you like this to happen?"</p>
<p>"As soon as possible," Frank said. Then tacked on, "please," because he could practically <em>feel</em> his grandmother's hand slapping him on the back of the head for being rude to a priest. It had happened often enough in the past.</p>
<p>"Of course," the priest said. "This afternoon?"</p>
<p>"Perfect!" Frank said, hoping his relief didn't sound too suspicious to the man on the other end of the phone. They said their goodbyes and Frank tried to go about his day as normally as he could.</p>
<p>At first he walked on eggshells around the house, half thinking something would jump out at him at any moment, but he told himself firmly that he wasn't in a bad horror movie, and slowly, after a few cups of coffee and some toast, Frank started calming down.</p>
<p>There was a perfectly normal explanation for this, surely. Maybe he <em>was</em> a late-onset sleepwalker or something. It wasn't anything <em>weird</em> or <em>supernatural</em> that was happening. It was just Frank being paranoid, adjusting to life in the countryside. After all, he was used to the hustle and bustle of the city, for the most part. It was strange how quiet it was here. No white noise in the background of traffic and people going by ever, just birds and the occasional coyote.</p>
<p>By the time the priest actually showed up, Frank had convinced himself that he had just been making the whole thing up, and that he had made a mistake in calling him in the first place. At least he hadn't said anything stupid on the phone, so he could just pretend to be a very religious person who wanted their home blessed, and then let the priest go.</p>
<p>The soft knock on the door startled him out of his thoughts and he sprang up from the sofa and hurried out of the living room and to the entrance to let the priest in.</p>
<p>"Hi!" Father Way said warmly, extending a hand towards Frank. Father Way was <em>young</em>. Frank hadn't expected that. The young priests he'd known had all been, well. Kind of strange, and doughy, and a little bit sweaty. Father Way was… fuck, he was attractive, with his brown hair combed neatly on his head, his button nose and his damn rosy cheeks. He was wearing casual clothing, which Frank hadn't expected, just dark brown slacks and pale blue t-shirt with a jean jacket.</p>
<p>"Hello, I'm Frank," he said. "C'mon in."</p>
<p>"Thank you, it's very nice to meet you," Father Way said, stepping inside. "Welcome to our little town."</p>
<p>"Thanks," Frank replied.</p>
<p>"What brought you here from the city, if you will excuse my curiosity?"</p>
<p>"Oh, uh," Frank led the way into the living room. "Just needed some fresh air while I work on my next album." It wasn't lying to a priest if he just didn't disclose the <em>whole</em> truth, right?</p>
<p>No, that hadn't worked when he was a teenager either…</p>
<p>"Would you like some coffee?" he asked, diverting the attention away.</p>
<p>"Please," Father Way said. "Very kind of you."</p>
<p>Frank went away and fixed them two cups of coffee and brought them back. They sat down in he living room and chatted politely for a while about the town and life there compared to in the city. When they finished their coffees, Father Way spoke up.</p>
<p>"So, you wanted a blessing?"</p>
<p>"Uh, yeah," Frank flailed. "Just- just whatever you think is appropriate. I was going to wait until the renovations were finished but…"</p>
<p>"But…?" Father Way prompted. His gaze was kind but unflinching and Frank could only meet it for a few seconds before looking away.</p>
<p>"Just thought, the sooner the better, right?"</p>
<p>"Is that why you called the church at 9:30 on a Saturday morning?" the priest asked mildly.</p>
<p>"Yes," Frank said, and blushed only slightly.</p>
<p>"Alright, how about you show me around the house first?" Father Way asked.</p>
<p>"Okay." Frank walked into the kitchen and through to the attached dining room.</p>
<p>"Is there anyone else going to be living in the house with you?"</p>
<p>"Uh," Frank said. Normally he'd quip something about this being a sneaky way to ask if he was single, but he couldn't very well do that to a priest, even if he was hot, so he just cleared his throat to cover up his hesitation. "Nope, just me."</p>
<p>"I see," he replied politely. Frank felt suddenly defensive of the size of the house. It <em>was</em> pretty big for just one person to live in, but he needed space for his recording studio set up, and in case any of his family wanted to come visit or something! And he'd liked the location of it, and- "shall we look at the upstairs section perhaps?"</p>
<p>"Oh, yeah, uh- sorry," Frank said, hurrying to open the door that led to the hallway. He showed Father Way the rest of the house, the bedrooms, sitting rooms, recording studio, the many empty library rooms or whatever they were. They ended downstairs in the main living room again.</p>
<p>"Is there a basement?" Father Way asked.</p>
<p>"I think so," Frank said. "But I haven't gone down there yet, I think it's just full of cra- uh, stuff, like from the previous owners."</p>
<p>"Alright," Father Way said. "Shall we begin?"</p>
<p>"Please," Frank said, and then tried hard not to blush. God it had been too long since he'd gotten laid. Properly laid. Like laid out and teased and tortured until he was begging for-</p>
<p>"In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit," Father Way started and Frank tried to shake himself out of his thoughts.</p>
<p>"Amen," he echoed along with the priest, making the required gestures. He couldn't help glancing at Father Way's hands as he made the sign of the cross. Then Frank swallowed hard and forced himself to look away from the Rosary Father Way was gently holding in his signing hand, hanging loosely from his fingers and around his wrist.</p>
<p>"Peace be with this house and with all who live here," Father Way continued, looking all serious and official in the way priests always did. Like they really believed they had a calling, a higher purpose, like they truly believed in their necessity to the world. Frank envied that certainty.</p>
<p>"And with your spirit," Frank said automatically, and huh, nice to know that autopilot program was still there in the back of his mind.</p>
<p>Father Way then took a bible out of the pocket of his jacket and started paging through it and reciting some lines, some from a piece of paper Frank could see in there, and others clearly straight from the bible itself.</p>
<p>"We usually end these with a song, do you have one in mind?" Father Way asked, closing his bible carefully and putting it back into his jacket pocket.</p>
<p>"Uh-"</p>
<p>"We don't have to do that," Father Way said, giving him an understanding look. "We usually also have more people. Friends, family, that sort of thing."</p>
<p>"Oh, yeah," Frank said awkwardly. "My family would've come but you know, I asked for a bit of peace and quiet," Frank explained. "I just wanted some time by myself to work."</p>
<p>"Of course," Father Way replied, still so irritatingly kind and understanding.</p>
<p>"I mean, I don't even know how long I'll stay here, just until I finish writing this album probably, and then I'm going back home," Frank went on, explaining his life to this stranger who probably didn't care.</p>
<p>"Frank-" Father Way started, but to his own -and probably his entire family's- horror, Frank interrupted him.</p>
<p>"I just mean like, I <em>have</em> people, you know? I just <em>chose</em> to go off by myself for a bit." Father Way just waited, smiling politely. Why couldn't he just tell Frank to shut up instead.</p>
<p>"Is there anything else you want to talk about, Frank?" he asked. Frank didn't quite know how to take that. At first he had flashbacks to his priests at school saying that to him over and over after Frank had been caught on the roof with another boy from a few years above him. It put him immediately back in that place of feeling vulnerable and defensive, but also wanting someone else to be able to take his problems away and solve them, take all the weight off him.</p>
<p>Then he remembered again about the strange things he'd been experiencing in the house, and instinctively looked at his forearms. They were hidden beneath the long-sleeved shirt he was wearing, but he could picture the marks in his head clearly enough, the stark red lines, perfectly parallel and straight.</p>
<p>"Not really," he said automatically. "Nothing I can think of."</p>
<p>Father Way gave him a look. It wasn't <em>the</em> look, the one he'd received back then. It was different, though not far from a look he had received often from a certain trusted person up until recently. The look that told Frank the other person saw straight through his bullshit and was just waiting patiently for him to come clean and stop being an idiot. It made something crawl down his spine like a shiver of anticipation.</p>
<p>"Well…" he started, pushing his sleeves up, hesitantly at first, but once he'd started, he kind of had to go through with it didn't he? "I woke up with these this morning, and I thought it was kind of weird." He showed his inner forearms to Father Way.</p>
<p>"Hm," Father Way said, leaning in to examine Frank's forearms. He could tell Father Way's gaze was travelling along his skin and looking at his tattoos. Frank kind of forgot about them most of the time, the red lines of the scratches standing out starkly in his head, but to people who didn't know his skin as well as he did, perhaps the tattoos did distract a bit from them.</p>
<p>"Well?"</p>
<p>"Do you mind?" Father Way asked, reaching a hand towards Frank's. Frank just shrugged, and Father Way delicately gripped Frank's wrist, lifting his arm up, closer to his face so he could examine it closer. "Is there anything else?" He lifted his gaze to Frank's.</p>
<p>"I don't know," Frank said, unable to look away. "I just sometimes get a weird feeling in here I guess."</p>
<p>"I see," Father Way said, and to Frank's disappointment, he let go of Frank's wrist. His grip had been so solid and firm, Frank suppressed a shiver just thinking about it, and then chastised himself for having thoughts like that around, and <em>about,</em> a priest. Man of the cloth. Father Way was married to Jesus or whatever it was. Frank needed to end this thought process <em>right now</em>. Gerard turned away to look around the room. "Well we have done a blessing now, so hopefully the house should be at ease." He turned back to Frank, his eyes earnest. "If you have any more issues, you can call me, any time." He handed Frank a business card. Why the fuck would a priest have a business card? It was black, with the sign of the fish in shiny silver on the back, along with the name of the local church and a bible verse about light overcoming darkness. The front had the address of the church, both a landline and a mobile number, an email address, along with Father Way's name.</p>
<p>"Gerard?" Frank read, mostly just testing it out. It wasn't what he'd imagined at all for this pixie looking priest.</p>
<p>"Yeah, that's me," Father Way - Gerard, replied with a smile. "It was nice to meet you, Frank. Thank you for the coffee. You should come by the church sometime for a service." Gerard put his jacket on again.</p>
<p>"Sure," Frank said, again saying yes to plans he knew he'd never follow up on.</p>
<p>"I'll see you later, bye."</p>
<p>"Bye," Frank said, walking Gerard to the door and watching as he walked down the steps of the house, and down the street. Had he walked here?</p>
<p>That night, Frank lay in bed, trying to sleep but feeling like he was about to crawl out of his skin, the familiar itch that he needed scratched. The itch he needed <em>someone</em> to scratch, except it wasn't <em>someone</em> who had been scratching it, who knew exactly what Frank needed and how to give it to him. It was Adam.</p>
<p>Frank had promised himself he wouldn't spend any more time thinking about his ex, but dammit he just needed, he <em>needed</em> to get off, feel owned and taken and used, and if he was by himself, the memories and fantasies were the next-best thing he had.</p>
<p>He'd been thinking about the time Adam had put Frank on his knees, naked while Adam was towering over him, fully dressed in one of his fancy work suits. He'd tied Frank's hands behind his back, and Frank was remembering how desperate he'd felt, but how grounded at the same time, the cuffs he was wearing restricting his movement in the best way, just looking up at Adam and waiting for his next instruction.</p>
<p>Except then his brain had a random misfire or something because suddenly he wasn't wearing the familiar cuffs he and Adam had used regularly and Frank still had in a case under the bed. And Adam wasn't the one standing in front of him. His mind was filled with visions of the man who had visited earlier that day.</p>
<p>
  <em>"Gerard…"</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"You know what you call me," Gerard said, looking at him through hooded eyes. Not cruelly, like Adam sometimes had, but sternly, like he expected Frank to do better.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Father Way," Frank said, almost moaning the title.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"That's right," Father Way praised him. He was wearing a full priest's garb, with the black pants, shirt and jacket, and the white collar. "Have you been a good boy, Frank?"</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Yes Father, I have," Frank said immediately. He went to reach forward, to touch Father Way, but his hands were still bound behind his back, so instead he fell awkwardly forward into Father Way's legs, his face rubbing on the rough material of his pants. He struggled to get his balance again, pushing himself until he sat back on his knees. He felt around with his hands behind himself and realized he was no longer bound with the old, soft cuffs, but with the long, black Rosary Father Way had carried. "Please, I'm a good boy, I promise."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Are you sure about that, Frankie?" Father Way asked. "They tell me sometimes you are a very bad boy."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"I promise!" Frank pleaded. "For you- I promise, I'll be good!"</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"You want to be good?" Father Way asked. Frank nodded hard."Behold, the lamb of God." Frank tried to contain himself from dashing forward and nuzzling into the other man's legs. He wanted to be closer to Father Way, to feel his solid warmth again, even if it had to be through his clothes. As Father Way recited the words, his hands moved down so his deft fingers could unbutton his pants and slide down the zipper.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Frank's mouth watered in anticipation and he scooted forward minisculely. Father Way opened his pants wider and pulled out his cock, thick and hard and beautiful. Frank looked up at Father Way's face, meeting his eyes as he opened his mouth in anticipation. He knew what he was being asked to do. He understood this.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"The body of Christ," Father Way continued his intonation, and pushed his cock between Frank's waiting lips and all the way down into his throat, so he had his nose pressed against Father Way's shirt as he tried to breathe through his nose and relax the muscles in his throat. "That's it Frankie, you're doing so good."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Frank could feel tears prickling at the corners of his eyes and his head was going light from the lack of oxygen and it was bliss like he hadn't felt for a long time. He knew Father Way would take care of him, wouldn't push him too far, and sure enough, Father Way pulled back and Frank was able to take a rasping, wet breath, before Father Way's cock was being pushed into his mouth again. Frank could feel his own cock throbbing with need, hard and waiting and neglected. He automatically tried to reach his hands down to touch himself, but the small chain around his wrists stopped him.</em>
</p>
<p><em>It was so different from any bond he'd ever had on him before. Usually Frank liked to struggle, to know that even if he wanted to, he </em>couldn't<em> physically get free. He liked the feeling of his muscles straining against the hold of something, he liked how solid and unyielding it was. Father Way's Rosary was none of those things and yet Frank stayed still and didn't struggle. He didn't struggle because he knew the Rosary was important to Father Way, knew that it held some kind of sentimental value to him. He knew that he would face the worst punishment of his life if he broke it.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Besides that, he didn't want to. He didn't want to disappoint or hurt Father Way. He wanted to be good for him.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Father Way started fucking Frank's mouth in earnest, reaching one hand forward to trail from his forehead and up to tangle in his hair. Frank knew this, so he let himself go, basking in the sensation, concentrating on his breathing and keeping his throat open, wanting to make it as good as he could for the other man, letting him use Frank's mouth as he pleased.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Frank came back to himself when Father Way pulled out and didn't push back in. He suppressed a needy whine, he had been so lost in the steady rhythm, he wasn't prepared for it to go away. Father Way was stroking himself quickly and efficiently.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Receive God's blessing," Father Way said, and Frank was barely quick enough to close his eyes before the hot strikes of come were hitting his face. He opened his mouth, sticking his tongue out to catch what he could.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Father Way was breathing heavily as he looked down at Frank, and Frank met his eyes eagerly.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Look at you," he said reverently. Then he reached a hand to Frank's face and touched the come on his forehead. It took Frank a second to recognize that he'd traced a cross symbol on Frank's forehead.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Frank shivered.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Oh, do you want to come too?" Father Way asked, glancing down at Frank as he tucked himself back inside his pants and zipped himself up. Frank nodded vigorously. "Hm… I suppose…" Father Way seemed to be thinking for a moment, before he put his foot forward so it was between Frank's spread thighs where he kneeled. "Go on."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Frank didn't have to be told twice, he lifted himself up until he could press his cock against Father Way's shin and started rutting like an animal in heat. The fabric was uncomfortably rough and he knew it would chafe, but he didn't even care. He was so turned on he could barely see straight. He was too busy chasing the sparks of pleasure he could grind out from Father Way's leg, and keeping himself from falling off balance. "Please," he whined as he just couldn't get the right angle, constantly chasing something that was too out of reach for him to ever catch.</em>
</p>
<p><em>"You poor thing," Father Way said. "You need this so much." He adjusted the angle of his leg and finally, </em>finally<em>, Frank was able to move in a way that started the pleasure building in the pit of his stomach. He didn't need too much, riled up from earlier. He buried his face in Father Way's thigh, smearing the half-dried come everywhere. He didn't even have the wherewithal to worry about whether that would be worthy of a punishment later. He just rutted against Father Way's leg as hard as he could until his muscles were aching and his mind was full of nothing but need, the quest for a singular goal overtaking him.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>When he came his mind went blissfully blank as the waves of pleasure rode over him. He gave himself over to the sensations; to feeling, not thinking.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Be at peace my child, all of your hungers are satisfied in the name of Jesus," Father Way said, back in his intoning voice from earlier. He stroked Frank's hair as Frank leaned against him. "You really needed that didn't you?"</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Yes," Frank said, enjoying the feeling of nails gently scratching his scalp. It started to become too much though, a little bit too hard, and Frank tried to pull away but Father Way's hand tightened in his hair and he couldn't move. "W-what-?"</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"In fact, you were just begging for it, weren't you, you slut." The words were harsh like the grip in his hair, and it didn't sound like Gerard's voice anymore. It didn't feel like his hand in Frank's hair anymore either. Frank finally managed to glance up and he saw that instead of Gerard, he was kneeling at someone else's feet.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Adam?" Frank asked, surprised and confused.</em>
</p>
<p><em>"I always knew you'd come crawling back," Adam said, cruel and mocking. "I </em>dumped<em> you, what part of that don't you get? Pathetic."</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Frank was stunned. The words were more or less an echo of what Adam had said to Frank when he had ended things. It was a painful memory and Frank didn't know if he was tearing up because his hair was being ripped from his scalp, or because of the memory.</em>
</p>
<p><em>"No wonder nobody wants you, a pathetic little thing like you," Adam continued, his face starting to change, the angles becoming harsher, more gaunt, and his eyes turning red as the hand holding him by the hair seemed to be growing claws that were digging into his scalp. "And you think a </em>priest<em> would want you now?" Adam scoffed. "You're damaged goods, Frank. Just give it up already."</em></p>
<p>
  <em>"N-no, you're wrong," Frank said, struggling against the claws in his hair. "Let me go!"</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"I think you're the one who needs to let go," Adam said, and was it even Adam anymore? His face had twisted and contorted so badly that Frank wouldn't have recognized him if it wasn't for the blond hair he could still see. Frank pushed against the legs of the creature that was holding him, trying to use the leverage to get free, and trying not to look as the face distorted even more, mouth opening slowly until it was so wide his jaw surely must be broken, and then some kind of liquid started trickling out in small rivulets, coming down the thing's jaw and dripping down towards Frank. It was almost black but Frank could tell just from the sharp metallic smell that it was blood. He'd never known blood could smell like that.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>He managed to wrench himself free and looked up to see blood now flowing from the creature's eyes and ears too, dripping all over the ground, getting on Frank's shoes, his legs, his hands. He tried to get away, to scramble to safety but the sticky, warm liquid kept rising around him as the creature stood over him, looking down at him, blood dripping into Frank's face, into his hair, all over him. He was now almost covered in it as it steadily climbed up his prone body. He tried to get up but he couldn't, the bonds around his wrists hampering him as he tried to hold his head above the liquid. He panicked as it crept up his body, slowly covering his legs, his abdomen, up his chest and to his throat. He had to get up, he had to get away!</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Let go…" the creature that wasn't Adam, wasn't Father Way either, said in a voice that sounded like a long forgotten echo. The blood was now creeping up to his face. He squeezed his eyes shut, his mouth shut, desperate to get his feet underneath himself so he could just-</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>He was fully submerged, unable to breathe, the ground seemed to have fallen away and he was floating, but he didn't know which way the surface was, and he could barely move through the thick liquid he was encapsulated in. He had to find the surface, had to get air, had to escape.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>He tried to swim using just his legs and his body, but the blood was too thick, he didn't get anywhere. His lungs were screaming for air now, his heart thudding in his chest and his brain telling him he just had to open his mouth and take a breath, but the thought of opening his mouth and it filling with the tarry substance, filling him up with the warm, thick blood until he couldn't breathe repulsed him. He just couldn't. His lungs were burning now. He was about to pass out, he knew it. He tried one last time to struggle forwards, upwards, anywhere.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>It wasn't enough.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Finally he couldn't fight it anymore. He had to take a breath, he had to get some air. But there was no air. Only darkness.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>He felt his mouth being involuntarily forced open by his brain, desperate for oxygen, felt the thick liquid start to stream into his mouth, down his throat, filling his lungs until there was nothing but darkness.</em>
</p>
<p>Frank woke with a start and a deep, gasping breath. He was covered in cold sweat, the sheets tangled around his mid-section. He was breathing hard like he'd just been running. He sat up and pushed the sheets away and moved to a less sweaty spot on the bed, before pulling his knees up to hug them.</p>
<p>What the fuck had that been? He'd never had a nightmare that vivid before. He could still feel the pain in his scalp, still feel the warm stickiness of the blood slowly engulfing him. He shuddered.</p>
<p>He realized belatedly that he was also covered in come, reminding him of the earlier part of the nightmare. He felt his face heat up in embarrassment. How could he have thought that way about a priest, what would his mother think. What would his <em>grandmother</em> think?</p>
<p>They never had to know and Frank would never speak or think of this again.</p>
<p>He leaned to the nightstand to look at the clock on his phone, but the sight of the dark unknown of the floor made something swoop in his stomach. Fear? He huffed at himself and then tried again, this time reaching his phone. 4:38am.</p>
<p>He wanted a shower. He did not want to sleep anymore. Most of all he wanted all the lights in the house to be on.</p>
<p>    	🙧   	</p>
<p>It wasn't easy to go back to sleep in his room after that the next night. Not easy, but he managed. He was 33, he wasn't going to be frightened out of his own bedroom by a <em>nightmare</em> for Christ's sake. So what if he slept with a light on for a few nights. So what if he only fell asleep at 3am, exhausted, with his computer next to him, a netflix show still going in the background. That was his business.</p>
<p>When he woke up to a strange sound in the night, at first he thought it was just that, his computer still playing the episode of The Office he'd been watching.</p>
<p>The cool glow of the computer screen illuminated the white bedsheets, but the picture wasn't moving.</p>
<p><em>'Are you still here?'</em> was the message displayed on the screen.</p>
<p>So what had woken him up? It had sounded almost like a… a scream.</p>
<p>Frank's heart was suddenly beating very fast and hard in his chest. So hard he felt the whole bed shaking with it. He sat up and looked around. The lamp on the bedside table was still lit, so he could see that nothing was amiss in his room. Maybe he had imagined it. Maybe it had  just been another nightmare.</p>
<p>He had just about convinced himself of this, lying back down in the bed, his heart rate slowing down again, when he heard a loud, solid <em>thud </em>from the ceiling.</p>
<p>Frank shot up in his bed again. That wasn't a nightmare, that wasn't nothing, that was <em>something</em>. He quickly put on the closest pair of shoes he could find, his fingers clammy and shaking as he did. He got up from the bed and quietly made his way out and into the hallway. He tried to listen after every step, to see if there was anything that he could hear around the house as he walked, any footsteps or breathing, anything to indicate an intruder in the house.</p>
<p>He didn't have a flashlight. He hadn't even thought to bring his phone. Idiot.</p>
<p>It had come from the ceiling so it had to be something that had fallen down in the attic. Maybe it wasn't as weatherproof as he thought, and the wind had knocked something over. There was some stuff up there he hadn't gone through yet. He slowly crept towards the stairs at the back of the hallway that led to the attic. It wasn't like in more modern houses where there was a shutter in the ceiling and a ladder - there was a small door like a cupboard, which held small stairs that led to the attic.</p>
<p>The first step creaked. And the second one. It was so dark, Frank's eyes had adjusted somewhat but he wasn't a bat, so he couldn't really see much at all. He took his time until he was half-way up the stairs. Then, his heartbeat thundering in his chest, he decided he'd had enough. He wouldn't be scared in his own house just because a raccoon had made it into his attic or something. So he marched up the stairs and threw open the door.</p>
<p>There was nothing there. The attic was just a large empty room with dusty, bare floorboards and a chilly gust of wind running through it.</p>
<p>Wind?</p>
<p>Frank looked around. There was a small window on one side that was open, for some reason. Had it blown open? It wasn't particularly windy tonight but it was possible, he supposed. He walked over there and closed the window with an unintentionally loud <em>bang </em>that sent his heartbeat stuttering again. He almost laughed at himself. Alright. He'd worked himself up over nothing. Time to go to bed again.</p>
<p>He looked over the attic one last time, seeing that everything was in order, and then headed back towards the stairs. He walked down the stairs and back to his bedroom through the second door on the left in the hallway. Except the room he just entered wasn't his bedroom, it was one of the rooms he hadn't really done anything with yet. There was just some furniture there, covered up with sheets. He could've sworn his bedroom had been through this door, but he was probably not remembering right because he was so tired. He tried the next door, and the one before, but again, neither were his bedroom. He finally found it as the third door on the right. He was just too tired to worry about it right now. He was definitely going to check it out in the morning though, he thought as he crawled into bed and fell asleep.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    	🙧   	</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Frank found himself at the local bar early on Thursday evening. It wasn't that he was bored and lonely or anything, that definitely wasn't it. He just wanted to get a drink, see what was going on in the town.</p>
<p>There were already quite a few people at the bar when he got there, standing at the counter getting drinks or sitting in the booths scattered along the walls. There were a few tables on the floor too, and a stage on the far wall. It was set up like a band was going to be playing tonight and Frank felt a stab of fierce longing. It had only been a few months since his last tour, but he missed it. He rarely felt at home anywhere but on the stage, even if it was a different stage in a different city every night. He felt restless anywhere else. Like he just couldn't get comfortable, so he kept jumping around from thing to thing, place to place.</p>
<p>"Hey, Frank!"</p>
<p>Frank turned around to see Ray from the store walking over, followed by another man, thin and a little shorter. "Ray," Frank smiled.</p>
<p>"I was hoping you'd  come tonight," Ray said when he and his friend had caught up to Frank. "Do you have a table yet?"</p>
<p>"No, I just got here," Frank said.</p>
<p>"I'll get us some beers, Mikey can you get us a table?"</p>
<p>"Sure," said the thin man next to him.</p>
<p>"Oh, that's Mikey by the way," Ray said, gesturing at the man. "Mikey, this is Frank."</p>
<p>"Nice to meet you man," Frank said, taking Mikey's hand.</p>
<p>"You too," Mikey said, and then he went off to do as Ray had asked him.</p>
<p>"Beer?" Ray asked.</p>
<p>"Sure," Frank said. "Thanks." They walked up to the bar and Ray ordered three beers. As they waited to be served, Ray asked Frank how he was, and they made small talk for a while.</p>
<p>"Tonight my band is actually going to be playing a few songs," Ray said as he walked towards the booth Mikey had selected for them.</p>
<p>"Really? That's cool," Frank said.</p>
<p>"Yeah, we're just waiting for the last two members to arrive." They sat down at the table, Ray putting Mikey's glass in front of him and then sitting next to him, Frank sitting in the seat opposite them. "We only play a couple songs, then some other bands play too. It's fun," Ray explained. "It's just kind of a local thing, we do it every week."</p>
<p>"I can't wait to hear what you sound like," Frank said. He wondered what kind of music these two would make, as Ray looked like the typical metal dude that Frank had known throughout his life, with his Iron Maiden shirt and his curly hair, while Mikey looked more like someone who listened to The Cure a lot. Or like someone who exclusively listened to top 40 radio. Frank couldn't quite make him out.</p>
<p>They chatted for a while, and Frank found out that while Mikey was quiet, he also had an unexpected sense of humour, dark and mischievous. Frank liked him.</p>
<p>"Oh, there they are," Ray said, pointing to somewhere behind Frank, where the entrance was. Ray waved at them, and Frank turned around to see who it was.</p>
<p>"Hey guys," said a muscular man with a kind smile. Next to him was-</p>
<p>"Gerard?"</p>
<p>"Frank?"</p>
<p>"Oh, you two know each other?" Ray asked.</p>
<p>"Uh-" Frank said, panicking a little. Ray and Mikey seemed cool, and he didn't want them to know he'd freaked out and called a priest. And wait- was Gerard in the band? Was that even allowed?</p>
<p>"I introduced myself to Frank the other day, invited him to come for a service sometime," Gerard said smoothly. It wasn't <em>exactly</em> a lie, but Frank was impressed with his quick thinking nonetheless.</p>
<p>"Yeah, uh, hi again," Frank said, shooting Gerard a grateful look.</p>
<p>"Always doing the lord's work," Mikey muttered.</p>
<p>"Alright, well sit down," Ray said, and Frank scooted over so Gerard and the other guy could sit next to him. Frank had to sit right up against the wall, and Gerard was pressed to him all along his side, which only made it harder for Frank not to think about the thing he was <em>definitely not</em> supposed to think about. The spectacular dream sex he'd had with the Catholic priest sitting next to him. The more he tried not to think about it though, the more he did think about it. It had been a good dream after all, until it had turned into a nightmare. Just thinking about being naked and on his knees in front of Gerard made the blood start flowing south. He shouldn't be thinking about this, he <em>shouldn't</em> be thinking about this.</p>
<p>"This is Jarrod," Gerard said, and Frank had to lean across him to take Jarrod's hand. Gerard smelled nice, he noticed. Like fresh summer flowers, but like, not in a girly way. In a priestly way. Fuck. He still wasn't even wearing a priest outfit, just normal clothes, a casual olive shirt and jeans. Frank had to clear his head, stop going down this route he was definitely not allowed to go down.</p>
<p>"So you're in a band?" Frank asked once Ray had summoned beers for the new arrivals, and conversation had started flowing again. The others were talking about something else and not really paying attention to Frank and Gerard, squeezed close together to fit the three of them in the booth seat.</p>
<p>"Yeah," Gerard said. "And before you ask, no we don't just sing hymns or something."</p>
<p>Frank grinned. "Okay, you got me," he laughed. "I didn't even know that was allowed."</p>
<p>"Allowed?" Gerard said. "I'm not an indentured servant."</p>
<p>"Sure, but the Catholic Church does set a few more rules than most employers do."</p>
<p>"I suppose," Gerard said, taking a sip of his beer. "At least they still let us drink alcohol."</p>
<p>"Where would the Catholic Church be without wine," Frank joked. Gerard actually laughed, a sweet little giggle that made something swoop in Frank's stomach and that was really no good.</p>
<p>They got back into the conversation with the other guys, and Frank tried not to think about how nice Gerard felt pressed against his side, warm and solid, or remember how good his cock had felt down Frank's throat. Dream or not, it had felt so real that Frank could still remember the taste, as real as the beer he was drinking.  At least the lights were low so hopefully nobody would be able to see him blush.</p>
<p>"It's time," Ray said, and stood up from the booth. He'd gotten a signal from somewhere behind the bar, Frank surmised, and Ray herded all of them towards the stage.</p>
<p>To Frank's great surprise, Gerard was the singer, the front man of the band. And he was damn good at it too. Frank sat in his seat drinking his beer throughout the performance but a few couples had gone out to the middle of the room to dance. Frank wouldn't really call it a dance floor but it was close. Gerard tossed around a few inside jokes that clearly got a laugh from the regulars of the bar, even if Frank didn't understand them, and his voice was unexpectedly good.</p>
<p>They played a mix of slow rock songs and something that could almost be called soft punk. Frank guessed they were toning themselves down a bit for the crowd, but Gerard still performed with an intensity Frank rarely saw from others in this field. Frank found himself wishing he had even half of the magnetism that Gerard seemed to have. He was spellbinding to watch, even in this small room, Frank thought as he finished the last of his glass.</p>
<p>"Hey," Frank said when he caught Gerard coming off the stage. He was a little sweaty and his face was flushed. It looked good. "You guys were awesome!"</p>
<p>"Thanks," Gerard said, scratching the back of his head. "I'm always nervous before we go on stage but then it always works out well."</p>
<p>"You shouldn't be nervous, you look really good up there," Frank said. Why did he say that.</p>
<p>"Um… thanks," Gerard said, stepping from foot to foot like he wanted to run away but was too polite to.</p>
<p>"Really good," Frank repeated, looking Gerard up and down and oh god why couldn't he just shut up.</p>
<p>"Frank…" Gerard started.</p>
<p>"Did you always want to be a priest?"</p>
<p>"Frank-" Gerard sighed. "Not really, I just kind of fell into it and it felt right."</p>
<p>"Sure," Frank said, stepping a little closer. There was a wet little lock of hair stuck to Gerard's forehead that he really wanted to tuck behind his ear. His eyes travelled down to take in Gerard's flushed cheeks and to his red lips. He'd never gotten to kiss him in his dream, that was really a shame.</p>
<p>"Um…"</p>
<p>"So I guess you're married to Jesus now or whatever?" Frank asked.</p>
<p>"That's not quite-"</p>
<p>Frank watched himself reach forward and card his fingers through Gerard's damp hair, tucking the locks behind his ear.</p>
<p>"Frank, what are you doing?" Gerard asked. His voice was pleasant, but steely.</p>
<p>"You're kinda hot," Frank said. "For a priest. Even for a regular guy you're hot." He couldn't stop talking. "Can I come home with you tonight?"</p>
<p>"What? No!"</p>
<p>"But I-"</p>
<p>"No! Frank, that's really inappropriate," Gerard said, and for the first time he sounded like he was genuinely upset.</p>
<p>"Not even for sex," Frank hurried to say. "I just don't want to go home. Though sex wouldn't be terrible," he added.</p>
<p>"Frank," Gerard said again, and now there was pity in his voice and Frank never wanted to hear that again.</p>
<p>"Fuck. I'm sorry, forget I said anything," Frank said. "I drank too much tonight I think."</p>
<p>"It's okay, it could happen to anyone," Gerard said, but he still looked a little wide eyed and he wouldn't meet Frank's gaze.</p>
<p>"I think I'll just go… home," Frank said.</p>
<p>"T-that's probably a good idea," Gerard said kindly and oh god didn't that just make Frank feel even worse.</p>
<p>He said nothing as he turned away from Gerard, walking to the exit. He didn't say goodbye to Ray or Mikey or Jarrod. He didn't even see them as he just focused on the exit, using all his concentration on just walking straight and not falling over. The walk home was slow, and it was a little cold that night, and Frank found he really, <em>really</em> didn't want to go home. He was starting to hate that house, and it felt like the house hated him right back. He wanted to go home. His real home. He wanted to get fucked. He wanted to be able to sleep a whole night without waking up sweating, thinking he'd heard footsteps or screams or someone whispering his name. He wanted to live in a house where things didn't just mysteriously disappear only to appear a week later in a completely different spot.</p>
<p>This wasn't working out, he couldn't do this any longer.</p>
<p>It took him another week to work up the courage to ask Gerard for help again. Really, he felt like he’d made so much a fool of himself when he was drunk that he never wanted to see the priest again, but he was forced to take some drastic measures when he started losing time.</p>
<p>It started off innocently enough. He’d often been surprised at how fast the time could go when he was chasing a melody with his guitar.</p>
<p>It was just that this time he looked up and half an hour had gone by, and he didn’t have even a hint of a song in his head. Not even a few notes or a chord progression. It was weird, but maybe he’d just looked at the clock wrong. That could happen.</p>
<p>But the time intervals started getting greater and greater, he’d find himself in a different room than the one he sat down in, and eventually he lost half a day and woke up in the attic with his hands and knees covered in dirt. It was moist and cold and the earthy smell almost made Frank choke. He fell forward onto his elbows and knees on the floor, coughing like he’d just ran ten miles while smoking five packs of cigarettes. He finally managed to stand up on wobbly legs, and stumbled down from the attic and to the bathroom. He tore his clothes off and turned the shower up as warm as it would go. Why did he feel so cold? He watched the mud as the water washed it away from him, so dark brown that it was almost blood red as it swirled down the drain. With some distant part of his brain, he noticed that his legs were covered in angry, red scratches. He couldn’t even think about it right now. He stepped out of the shower and reached for a towel, wiping the steam off the mirror with his free hand.</p>
<p>It took him a second to realise something wasn’t quite right in the mirror. His eyes looked darker than usual, almost black, like the pupil had overtaken the iris completely. His face was gaunt and there were dark circles under  his eyes.</p>
<p>He could finally admit to himself that he needed help. He didn’t recognise the man in the mirror anymore. And whether he was going insane, being haunted by an evil ghost, or just lonely, his first thought was that Father Way would be able to help him.</p>
<p>“Hello?”</p>
<p>“Gerard.”</p>
<p>“Frank? Is that you? I was just thinking about you,” Gerard said on the other end of the line. He sounded a little off, but Frank couldn’t put his finger on it.</p>
<p>“Oh,” Frank said. Usually he would’ve said something else, something playful and flirty in response to a comment like that. He knew he should feel <em>something</em> that Gerard had been thinking of him. Mostly he just felt empty, and still so fucking cold, even after the shower.</p>
<p>“Yes, I was just- actually, it’s probably best if I explained in person. Are you home?”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Frank said.</p>
<p>“Great! I’ll be right over.” There was a pause. “Is everything alright?”</p>
<p>“Sure,” Frank said, trying to sound normal.</p>
<p>“I’ll see you shortly,” Gerard reassured him, and they ended the phone call.</p>
<p>At least Frank had the brain power to put on clothes before Gerard got there.</p>
<p>“Hi, Frank!” Gerard said, walking in as soon as Frank opened the door, much to his surprise.</p>
<p>“Uh- hey,” Frank said. “Come in.”</p>
<p>Gerard stepped through the open door and then immediately blanched.</p>
<p>"What?" Frank asked, watching Gerard's face turn steadily paler and paler. "What is it?"</p>
<p>"Umm…" Gerard started, his voice going high as he walked further into the house. His eyes flicked all over the ceiling as they walked through the entrance hall and into the living room. "My last visit- it- did it help?" He didn't meet Frank's eyes.</p>
<p>"Can't say that it did, no," Frank said.</p>
<p>"What's-" Gerard's eyes squeezed shut, like he was experiencing a headache. "What's been going on?" Frank wondered how much he should say, how much he <em>could</em> say without sounding batshit insane. But Gerard had believed him so far, and didn't seem to be looking at him with one finger on the dial to the mental institution</p>
<p>"Strange noises," Frank shrugged. "Things moving around, sometimes I get a bit confused and time passes really quickly, I don't know."</p>
<p>"Shit," Gerard cursed, and it was so unexpected that a feeling of excitement shot through Frank, breaking through the impenetrability of the numb state he had been in.</p>
<p>"Wow," Frank said.</p>
<p>"Sorry, I'm sorry," Gerard said, and Frank didn't know if he was talking to him or to like, god or something. "It's just- shit!"</p>
<p>"Okay?"</p>
<p>"I need to go," Gerard said and shifted from foot to foot. "I mean, I'll be back, I just need to go consult with someone. This is kind of out of my league I think."</p>
<p>"Okay… should I be scared?" Frank asked, the sarcasm an automatic response.</p>
<p>"Yes."</p>
<p>"Uh-"</p>
<p>"Here, hold this for me, please," Gerard said, and handed Frank a fucking bible he had in the pocket of his priest jacket.</p>
<p>"Okay…" Frank said, taking the book as Gerard got more items from his pockets. Including the fucking Rosary from Frank's dream. Frank steadily did not look at it and instead looked at the flask Gerard brought out, probably holy water, along with some incense and a lighter. Frank watched as Gerard placed the incense on the floor around the room, before returning, and putting his hand out for the book in Frank's hand. He cleared his throat a few times before beginning, and opened the cap of the flask and held it in one hand, the bible in the other. First he quietly muttered something to himself, doing the sign of the cross. Then he started.</p>
<p>"In the name of the Lord Jesus Christ of Nazareth, I stand with the power of the Lord God Almighty to bind Satan and all his evil spirits, demonic forces and satanic powers," Gerard read out from his book. The bible. His voice started off quietly but then became stronger and more confident as he went on. He sprinkled water from his flask on the ground, walking around the room as he chanted. "Along with all kings and princes of terrors-" Frank suddenly felt a sense of immense dread. Like the air pressure had gone all the way down. Or all the way up, he didn't really know the difference. Something just felt… <em>off. </em>"-from the air, fire, ground, netherworld and the evil forces of nature." Frank noticed one of the incense sticks had fallen over and was rolling on the floor. "I take authority over all demonic assignments and functions of destruction sent-" Was he imagining it or was there a high pitched sound growing louder and louder as Gerard went on? "-enemies of Christ-" Now he could definitely hear things rattling, like there was an earthquake or something, only Frank couldn't move. His vision was going hazy as he watched Gerard who still didn't seem like he had noticed anything was wrong. "-I command these spirits into the abyss-"</p>
<p>This time, the house shook hard enough that Gerard noticed, finally looking up from his trusty little book. Frank wanted to rip it from his hands and toss it away.</p>
<p>"What-?" Gerard said, looking around and at Frank. Then he was being thrown through the air, landing on one of the bookshelves and crumpling to the ground with a solid thud. Frank smiled. Why was he smiling? He shook himself and ran over to Gerard.</p>
<p>"Gerard! Father Way? Are you okay?" he bent down to look at Gerard's face. It was scrunched up in pain, but he couldn't see any blood, and he was still conscious, so it couldn't be too bad.</p>
<p>"I'm alright," Gerard said, pushing himself up into a sitting position with shaky hands. "This is…"</p>
<p>"Yeah?" Frank asked.</p>
<p>"You should go stay at a motel or something, I don't think it's safe here."</p>
<p>"A motel? But-"</p>
<p>"I mean it," Gerard said, and he took hold of Frank's hand, looking into his eyes. Gerard had really pretty eyes. He was really pretty in general. Frank wanted to- "Get somewhere safe. I'll take care of this."</p>
<p>"Okay, I will," Frank said, just because Gerard was asking him. He helped Gerard up with the hand he was still holding. "I'll- I'll pack a bag and go somewhere."</p>
<p>"Good. I need to find some things, I need to fix this."</p>
<p>"Thank you," Frank said. Gerard let go of his hand and the disappointment was cold on Frank's skin.</p>
<p>"Don't thank me, please," Gerard said, turning away. "I'll be back later, but go, there's a motel on the main street in town." Gerard turned to leave. Frank walked after him.</p>
<p>"I will," he promised. He walked Gerard to the door and watched him leave. It felt a little silly, leaving his house and going to a motel, for what, some objects moving, him being a little tired and scatterbrained and losing track of time? But Gerard had asked so nicely so Frank thought maybe he better do as he was told. For once.</p>
<p>If only he wasn't so tired.</p>
<p>He trudged up the stairs, grabbing a backpack in his room, and started stuffing some clothes into it, along with his computer and headphones, tangling them up with the wires for his charger. It felt like his limbs were moving slower and slower though. He'd thought it had been midday when Gerard came by, but he looked up and it was dark outside, and he was just so tired. His bed looked so comfortable, so tempting. The pillow and sheets still ruffled from that morning. He blinked slowly, and the bag he was holding fell to the ground. Just a little nap. It would be fine. He would only close his eyes for a little bit.</p>
<p>Besides, he was so cold, he just had to warm up a little bit under the sheets. Then he would do as Gerard told him.</p>
<p>   🙧   	</p>
<p>It had been a long time since Gerard had felt the urge to curse as badly as he did at this moment. But if this situation didn't call for it then he didn't know what did.</p>
<p>Deep breaths, he told himself.</p>
<p>At least he had <em>something, </em>a ritual, some ancient text that his contact had sent him. It should at least buy them time until the big guns arrived. He was only sorry that he had to involve Mikey and Ray in it too, but since they had kind of been involved from the beginning, maybe it was fitting.</p>
<p>It wasn't until after he had gotten off the phone with his contact however, that Gerard had started feeling uneasy about how he had left things. He should've taken Frank to the motel, he should've made sure he got there safely. He'd been too focused on righting his own wrong, on fixing his own mistake, that he hadn't thought anything through and just ran off to call Valentino.</p>
<p>He regretted that now, as he walked quickly from his car and up the path to the Grimwood house. He was confident Frank would be gone. Confident.</p>
<p>Except…</p>
<p>Frank's car was still in the driveway. It wasn't that far, he might have decided to walk. But the front door was unlocked. Which could just be because Frank forgot to lock it, except Frank wasn't answering his phone when Gerard called him, and Gerard had a sinking feeling in his stomach.</p>
<p>"Frank?" he called out as he entered the house, feeling again that dark sense of foreboding as he entered as he had earlier that day. A heavy aura lay over the house and it almost made it difficult to breathe from the pressure. All was quiet though. Deceptively calm. Like Gerard hadn't been tossed about only a few hours earlier, the bruises to prove it still forming on his shoulder and hip. "Hello?"</p>
<p>Maybe Frank really had left and Gerard was worrying for nothing. The house looked much the same as when he had left it earlier, a bit of a mess in the living room, but other than that nothing stuck out as being out of place. He walked up the stairs and wandered about. It felt awkward, trying to find Frank's bedroom, opening all the doors he could find, relieved every time to find an empty room without Frank lying in a heap on the ground or something.</p>
<p>Really, his imagination was getting away from him. Gerard reached into his pocket to check he still had all his supplies. It comforted him to feel the cool beads of his Rosary, the hard shape of his flask of holy water, among the other items he had. He counted them out, feeling for them with his fingers. He closed his eyes for a brief moment as he took a deep breath, centering himself. He walked with God behind him. Everything would be fine.</p>
<p>As long as he hadn't ran away to leave Frank to die.</p>
<p>He finally found Frank's bedroom. It was a mess, but a kind of mess Gerard recognised from his own life. Clothes and other items strewn about, not unnaturally but like they had been discarded after fulfilling their purpose and use. Seminary hadn't quite managed to beat that bad habit out of Gerard, back in the day. His eyes scanned the rest of the room. The bed was unmade but again, it didn't seem too out of place. Gerard certainly wasn't one to judge. He saw a glimpse of a <em>personal</em> item on the floor, half-hidden under the bed. He wanted to pretend seeing that Frank had such a beautiful set of leather handcuffs didn't send a forbidden thrill down his spine, but he couldn't so he quickly turned away. It wasn't until he turned to walk out of the room that his mind registered the anomaly.</p>
<p>The backpack. On the floor by the bed.</p>
<p>He quickly turned and walked over. It was full of clean clothes and electronics. This had to be the bag Frank had been packing to take away with him. So why was it here, without Frank? Had he forgotten it?</p>
<p>Gerard decided to quickly scan the rest of the house and if he couldn't find Frank, he'd go to the motel and see if Frank had checked in. He walked faster now, up to the attic, where he quickly looked around before turning back. It did not have a nice atmosphere. He went back downstairs and through every single room, bathrooms included, before deciding Frank was nowhere to be found in the house. He even looked out into the garden behind the house, but there was no sign of him. The only place he hadn't checked was the place Gerard was most dreading. The one place he did not want to go down again.</p>
<p>The basement door creaked loudly as Gerard opened it. It was a sound he could remember clearly from before, when it had evoked just as much sense of dread within him as it did now. Back then of course, he'd had someone else with him for moral support. Today he was alone though. He took a step onto the wooden stairs, and then another, fumbling for a light switch on the wall but coming up empty. It was only when he reached the bottom of the creaky stairs that he walked into string coming from the ceiling. It startled him, but he realised what it was soon enough and pulled on it. The light came on with a loud click, illuminating the vast basement of the house. It was almost as large as the floor plan of the house itself, though it was so full of things that you could barely see it. It hadn't really changed much over the years.</p>
<p>Gerard looked around, hoping that he wouldn't see Frank anywhere around. It didn't feel right to hope that Frank would be down here. It wouldn't be a desired outcome.</p>
<p>The basement was lit by an array of lights in the ceiling, but the lights couldn't penetrate the entire thing very well as there were rows of shelves and other storage around, many of them covered in tarpaulin or sheets, obscuring visibility even more. The air was dusty, and Gerard could feel it tickling his throat as he breathed. He would have to walk through the entire thing to make sure Frank wasn't there.</p>
<p>Great.</p>
<p>He methodically went about searching the entire room, going down every darkly lit corridor of shelves or stacked boxes, even the dimly lit ones. It wasn't until he was in the furthest corner from the entrance that he saw movement from the corner of his eye.</p>
<p>"Frank?"</p>
<p>No response.</p>
<p>Gerard walked towards the movement, despite every instinct of his screaming at him not to. It was his duty, and it was his responsibility.</p>
<p>"Frank," he said again, pleading this time. As he got closer he could see a figure standing there, facing the wall. Then it slowly turned towards Gerard.</p>
<p>"I do like it when you say my name like that," the figure said with Frank's mouth.</p>
<p>"Let him go," Gerard demanded, more steel in his voice than he expected. "He's not the one you want."</p>
<p>"Oh isn't he?" Frank's face twisted into an evil smile. "But he's the one <em>you</em> want, isn't he?"</p>
<p>The words ignited the familiar burn of shame, deep in Gerard's gut. "Let him go," he repeated, not answering the demon's goading question. For he <em>knew</em> it was a demon now. He could see it just as clearly as he could see Frank's face. The strings of the demon around him, pulling on Frank's body to make him move or speak. He felt ashamed that he hadn't seen it earlier, when it had probably been digging its way into Frank's soul from the moment Frank stepped foot in the house, looking for a gap in Frank's armour where it could wriggle its way beneath and sow its darkness from within.</p>
<p>"I'm afraid it's too late for us," the demon said, confirming Gerard's worst fear.</p>
<p>"I don't believe you," Gerard said, though it was more a token objection than actual belief, and the demon could probably see that. The thing was, Gerard couldn't know. He didn't know how any of this worked! He'd barely done a few minor exorcisms with one of his mentors and those had all been so peaceful that Gerard wasn't sure if it had been anything other than a cry for attention by the poor people they had been trying to help.</p>
<p>This was real. This was dangerously, terrifyingly real. And Gerard didn't know if demons could devour a person's soul this quickly. He didn't know if the poor victims could be saved. He was way out of his depth, armoured only with a bit of water in a bottle and some words?</p>
<p>No, he couldn't think like that. There had to be a way of saving Frank. God wouldn't let him die like this, let him be taken to hell by these evil beings. Not because of a mistake Gerard had made years ago. Not when it was all Gerard's fault.</p>
<p>Gerard brought out his hastily scribbled piece of paper and started reading, his hand shaking as Gerard started speaking. He didn't get very far into the Latin phrases before he was being slammed into the concrete wall of the basement, a hand on his throat holding tightly, constricting just enough that he could feel it, that his body started panicking, but not enough that he would pass out. Not yet at least.</p>
<p>"I know you want me, Father," Frank said. Or was it the demon? The outlines were blurring, they were speaking with the same mouth after all. Gerard's head hurt from hitting the wall, and his eyes had gone out of focus. He could feel Frank's breath on his face, closer to him than Frank had ever gotten before. So close that Gerard could practically count his eyelashes.</p>
<p>"No-" Gerard protested.</p>
<p>"You do, I can see it," Frank continued. "I can see it in your heart."</p>
<p>"No!" Gerard repeated.</p>
<p>"Who are you trying to convince, Father Way? Me, or yourself?" Frank laughed, an ugly laugh that Gerard never wanted to hear him do again. "Why do you stay within a church that hates you so much? That makes you hate yourself like this."</p>
<p>"Shut up," Gerard said, searching his mind for something to do, some way to escape the solid grip around his throat.</p>
<p>"You try to hide it, I know you do, but aren't you tired of that?" Frank asked, tightening his grip just a little. "Don't you just want to be <em>normal</em>?"</p>
<p>"I am a servant of Lord Jesus Christ of-"</p>
<p>"Yeah, yeah, I've heard it all before, you're very important," Frank said, rolling his eyes. "You can't get rid of me, <em>Father. </em>We are one now, there is no separating us. And let me tell you, we're going to have a lot of fun with you tonight. Silly of you to come here alone, really." Frank finally let go of Gerard's throat and Gerard sank down a little, his hand coming up to rub over his sore trachea. "But you just had to play the hero, didn't you?"</p>
<p>"That's not-"</p>
<p>"You thought you would <em>save</em> me, and then what? We'd live happily ever after?"</p>
<p>"No!"</p>
<p>"Or were you just trying to soothe your guilty conscience?" Gerard clenched his jaw. "Is it because you know that it's all your fault that this happened to me?"</p>
<p>Gerard didn't answer.</p>
<p>"If you hadn't been a troublemaker when you were a kid, I would just be here recording my album. Instead we're here in this lovely basement having this chat." Gerard's mind flashed back to the scene all those years ago, him and Mikey and Ray, stupid teenagers who decided to break into the haunted house down the street and play around. Daring each other to go further and further, egging each other on. Until they had found something that they couldn't handle. They released something they couldn't take back so easily. They'd simply ran away like cowards and never spoken of that night again. Since then, Gerard had watched the house as it had passed from owner to owner, no one lasting very long, and the rumours about the house only grew.</p>
<p>"I'm sorry," Gerard said, unable to hold the words back. "I'm sorry Frank, I'm going to get you out of this, I promise."</p>
<p>"Oh you promise," Frank said, raising his eyebrows. He was pacing in front of Gerard, so that Gerard was still stuck between him and the walls. "Like your promises mean anything, <em>Father.</em>"</p>
<p>There was a sinking feeling in Gerard's stomach. He couldn't know… could he? "Shut up," he said weakly, watching as Frank's grin grew.</p>
<p>"You've broken your vows before, after all," Frank said. "You still think about that night all the time, don't you?"</p>
<p>"No," Gerard bit out, his teeth clenched.</p>
<p>"I thought lying was a sin," Frank said innocently. "So you don't lie awake at night thinking about the man you tumbled with back then?"</p>
<p>"No!"</p>
<p>"And you didn't replace his face with mine in your mind the first night after we met, shamefully touching yourself until you came and then crying into your pillow?"</p>
<p>"Fuck you!" Gerard yelled. "You don't know- You don't know anything about me!"</p>
<p>"Really?" Frank grinned, stepping closer. "I know that you realised you were gay when you were ten years old. I know you told your favourite teacher at school. The kind one with the glasses. Awfully brave of you to confess to that in Catholic school."</p>
<p>Gerard wanted to punch the smug smile off Frank's face. It didn't belong there.</p>
<p>"Oh, he was oh so nice and understanding, wasn't he?"</p>
<p>Gerard thought back to Father McManus' kindly face, sitting down on one of the school desks and listening to Gerard's concern. He had these golden glasses that Gerard had always been fascinated with, wondering if they were real gold and if Father McManus was really a descendant of the leprechauns in Ireland, like the other boys had said. He had never treated Gerard unkindly, even when Gerard had forgotten to do his homework, or that one time he had punched a boy for pushing Mikey on the playground. He'd always been met with understanding.</p>
<p>
  <em>"It's a sin, Gerard," Father McManus explained. "But that does not mean that you are destined for a sinner's life." He pushed his glasses up his nose and smiled kindly at Gerard. "God made you just the way you are, Gerard. He gives every one of us challenges that we have to get through in life. Just like some people are born ill or disabled, so some of us have this penchant to sin within us. That does not mean we have to act on it. Do you understand?"</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Gerard nodded, even though he didn't, not completely. Not yet.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Working through these challenges, that is how we show our devotion to God. Every time we have the opportunity to sin but we don't, that's an opportunity for us to show God our virtue."</em>
</p>
<p>Gerard had felt better after that conversation. Like Father McManus was behind him, supporting him. He wanted to  pay it forward, to be able to be that influence in some other young kids' life who needed guidance. That was part of the reason Gerard had become a priest.</p>
<p>And really, there were quite a lot of priests who were closeted homosexuals, he realised as he progressed through his studies. In a strange way, Gerard had admired them.</p>
<p>"I know what happened that night," Frank continued. "That night you ran away, sick of it all, sick of hiding who you are, sick of denying yourself everything you ever wanted." There was glee on his face now as Gerard became more and more uncomfortable.</p>
<p>"Fine," Gerard said. "Fine, I had a moment of doubt where I planned to leave the priesthood and I went out and spent the night with a man. I'm not ashamed of it."</p>
<p>"Of course not!" Frank said. "It's one of your most precious memories, isn't it? You think of it when you feel lonely, when you doubt your place in life, when you doubt <em>god</em>." He smirked. "And of course, when you feel horny."</p>
<p>"What do you want?" Gerard asked. "I'm growing tired of talking."</p>
<p>"Really? But we're just getting started," Frank said. "As for what I want…"</p>
<p>There was a pause.</p>
<p>"I want to defile you in the most delicious way," Frank practically purred. He ran a finger up Gerard's cheek, making him shiver involuntarily. "I want to <em>devour</em> you. And I want you to enjoy it."</p>
<p>"Fuck you," Gerard spat out.</p>
<p>"Yeah, we can start there," Frank said, turning away from Gerard. "You know, even before there were two of us in here, I was thinking about you a lot." Gerard froze. "I guess you don't realise how attractive you are," Frank said. "The things I would let you do to me…" He trailed off, looking out into the distance. "I'm a bit of a masochist," he said like he was confessing something, with a self-conscious smirk that almost looked like the old Frank. "Are you man enough to take me?"</p>
<p>"Will you leave him if I do?" Gerard asked.</p>
<p>"Oh," Frank said, delighted. "You're proposing a bargain? A deal?" He looked positively gleeful. "An exchange?"</p>
<p>"Whatever you want, just let Frank go," Gerard said. He had already made this point earlier but now he apparently had an in.</p>
<p>"I see, whatever I want?"</p>
<p>"You have to promise to let him go," Gerard said. "You have to swear it. Swear that you will."</p>
<p>"Of course!" the demon smiled.</p>
<p>"A deal like this is binding, yes?"</p>
<p>"Yes, you have my word." The smile on Frank's face was disconcerting but it didn't matter, as long as this would bring Frank back.</p>
<p>"And you promise you'll never touch Frank again? You swear it?"</p>
<p>"I swear."</p>
<p>"And nobody from his family either," Gerard added. Making deals with the devil was never a good idea, he knew this, he had read all the stories. The simplest mistake could trick him while making the deal, and he had no guarantee that the demon would even keep his word. Yet he had to try.</p>
<p>"No one, I swear," he replied, his smile wider than ever.</p>
<p>"Then you can have whatever you want from me," Gerard said, and lifted his right hand towards his adversary. The demon didn't hesitate before taking Gerard's hand and shaking it. He didn't let go of Gerard's hand either, but started walking, and Gerard followed behind automatically as the demon led the way up the stairs from the basement. Instead of emerging in the main hallway on the ground floor though, they emerged in Frank's bedroom. There was a door now on the wall that had never been there. It felt so wrong on a fundamental, physical level, that Gerard felt sick from the whiplash.</p>
<p>The demon let go of Gerard's hand and got on the unmade bed, lying back and watching Gerard.</p>
<p>"You know, I fantasised about you, right here on this bed," he said. It was hard to tell when the demon was speaking and when Frank was shining through sometimes, like the demon was just influencing Frank but not completely controlling him. Frank's hands started roaming over his body, running from his slightly spread thighs and up to his chest, lifting his shirt up just a little as they went. "Thought about you, tying me up, doing whatever you wanted with me," he continued, his hands now going to the headboard of the bed and gripping it tight. "Do whatever you want to me, Father. Then it will let me go. It's the only way to save me."</p>
<p>Gerard walked to the dresser against the wall, and took off his jacket, folding it neatly and placing it on top of the dresser. Then he methodically started undressing, starting with his collar, and the black shirt he was wearing. He was turned away from Frank, but still he faltered when he was down to his undershirt.</p>
<p>"You have to make it good, Father," Frank said. Or was it the demon? Gerard couldn't tell anymore. "I'll know if you're holding back."</p>
<p>"I don't know how to give you what you want!" Gerard said, turning to face Frank. He had to save him, he <em>had</em> to. He just didn't know what was being asked of him here.</p>
<p>"It's not about what I want," Frank said, sitting up in the bed. "It's about you, it's about taking what <em>you</em> want." Gerard frowned. What did that even mean? "It would be easier, wouldn't it, if I'd just take you. If I would just force you to do something against your will. Then you could just suffer through it, bear your pain stoically like a good soldier of god. But that's not what I want. I want you to admit to all those desires you've kept buried for so long, and I want you to take them all out on me. All your deepest, most depraved, most secret fantasies. Make them all come true tonight, and you'll get me back." Gerard shuddered. He thought back to those shiny leather cuffs he had seen earlier, on the floor by the bed. With a deep breath to strengthen his resolve, Gerard walked over to where the cuffs still lay, and picked them up. He glanced at Frank on the bed and saw he was watching intently. He turned towards him before a thought struck him and he paused.</p>
<p>"I can't do anything that will hurt Frank," he said.</p>
<p>"Oh don't worry about that, I am very much into whatever will happen here tonight."</p>
<p>"How do I know you're not lying, that you're not being manipulated?" Gerard asked. This was important.</p>
<p>"Gerard, I promise, I've wanted this from basically the moment I saw you. I want you to tear me apart." Gerard searched Frank's face. It seemed like it was Frank at least. He seemed earnest. Gerard hoped God would forgive him for what he was about to do. Then he closed his mind to those thoughts entirely, locking away the part of him that felt connected to his faith.</p>
<p>"Hands up to the headboard," Gerard said. Frank obeyed immediately and Gerard felt a thrill of satisfaction run through him. He put one knee on the bed so he could reach Frank's hands, and fastened the cuffs around his wrists and around one bar of the headboard, so that he couldn't move his hands more than a few inches.</p>
<p>Then Gerard just let himself look at Frank. Just let his eyes travel over the body before him, taking in all the things he never allowed himself to. From his hands, tied up and littered with tattoos, down taut arms stretched up, elongating his body, to his shoulders. Then his torso, lean and with a hint of muscles under the softness there, leading down to his legs; thighs, where there were areas Gerard wanted to sink his teeth in so badly his mouth watered at the thought. It was so easy following the soft lines of Frank's body with his eyes all the way down to his toes and then back up again, where Frank was looking at him with anticipation in his eyes.</p>
<p>Then Gerard got to work. He climbed up on the bed and pulled on the hem of Frank's shirt, bringing it up to his wrists and leaving it there, exposing so much of Frank's delicious skin, and Gerard drank in all the details, every dip and curve, every swirling line of ink set into the skin. Next he moved his hands to the buttons of Frank's jeans, aware of how cold his fingers were against Frank's warm skin, trying to keep them from shaking too much as he unbuttoned and then unzipped the pants, revealing sky-blue boxers underneath. Gerard became fascinated with how they stretched across Frank's hips, sitting tight against his skin, so soft and enigmatic to Gerard who had always wanted but never been allowed to explore like this before. Now he was obliged to.</p>
<p>Frank let out a whine. Gerard had been running his finger along the waistband of the underwear, caressing over tattooed skin and the starting hints of hair above the pubic bone. Frank's hips pushed up as he squirmed against the touch. Gerard hummed, and then withdrew his hand to pull down Frank's pants. He had to pull off Frank's shoes and socks first, tossing them to the side of the room. His hesitation was melting away by the second, leaving behind nothing but desire, desire to save Frank and desire for Frank.</p>
<p>"Look at you," he murmured, half expecting Frank not to hear him, standing back to look at Frank lying on the bed, only clad in his underwear. Gerard wanted to explore every tattoo, kiss every patch of skin, find every sensitive inch and see what kinds of reactions he could coax out of Frank.</p>
<p>"Please, Gerard," Frank moaned out. He was already hard in his boxers, his cock straining against the thin fabric, barely covering it and only managing to make it more obscene.</p>
<p>"Yeah, I'll take care of you," Gerard said. He didn't know what he was doing, he didn't know how, but for the first time he thought that maybe he could figure it out. Suddenly his undershirt felt too constrictive so he took it off, tossing it to the side, and he received a moan from Frank in response. "What do you need?" Gerard asked as he climbed up on the bed again. He paused for a moment before swinging a leg over Frank's body and straddling his middle. He put his hands on Frank's chest, running them over the skin in nonsensical patterns, tracing ink and lines of muscles and sinew alternatively with his fingertips and his nails.</p>
<p>"F-fuck, Gerard, Father Way, fuck me, spit on me, choke me, hit me, slap me, do whatever you want to me, just let me be good for you," Frank babbled and Gerard's cock throbbed as his mind supplied him with images of just the things Frank was talking about. He could feel Frank's cock pushing up against his ass, showing him just how into this Frank was too. He was pretty sure it was Frank at least, grinding against his ass and letting out little 'ah' sounds that went straight to Gerard's cock.</p>
<p>The one and only time he had done this before, he had been drunk off his mind and the other man hadn't been much better. They'd gone back to Gerard's hotel room and Gerard had come embarrassingly early after pushing inside the other man, before they both passed out. And it wasn't like Gerard had been a nun before he joined the priesthood, he knew <em>some</em> things. Gerard moved his hands up Frank's chest and up to his throat.</p>
<p>He could feel Frank's pulse under his palm, quickening as he wrapped his fingers around Frank's throat and squeezed lightly. "Like this?" he murmured. Frank didn't respond, but his eyes fell closed and his features relaxed as Gerard tightened his grip even more. He watched Frank's reactions closely, his mouth falling open and his face turning red, before Gerard loosened his grip again. Frank drew in a deep, gasping breath, and his eyes flew open to look at Gerard, who moved his hands away from Frank's throat to stroke down over his skin again. He waited until Frank slowly relaxed again, and then brought his hands up to his throat again and squeezed, harder this time. Frank made a choking noise and Gerard almost let up, but something stopped him. He wanted to see how much longer Frank could take it. Frank's hands were clenched into fists where they were cuffed, and he was pulling on the chain so hard the skin on his wrists was turning red and raw.</p>
<p>Gerard let go.</p>
<p>Frank took in a heaving breath, coughing hard.</p>
<p>"Is that all you can take?" Gerard heard himself asking.</p>
<p>"N-no, I can be good, I promise," Frank said, his voice raw and raspy. Probably like what he would sound like if he had been choking on a cock, Gerard's brain supplied, and then it was all Gerard could think about. He shuffled up the bed.</p>
<p>"Are you sure?" he asked. "You can take more?"</p>
<p>"Yeah, please!" Frank said, his voice eager. Gerard's hand went to his waist and he started unbuttoning his pants with one hand, and watched as Frank's eyes widened and he swallowed hard. "Please let me suck your cock, Father Way."</p>
<p>"Such language," Gerard said, brushing Frank's cheek with one hand, and Frank blushed. Then he pushed his underwear down and out of the way and brought his cock out. Frank answered with another whine, long and drawn out.</p>
<p>"Please, please Father, I'll be good I promise," Frank said, his breathing growing faster. "Can I?" He looked up at Gerard with wide, pleading eyes.</p>
<p>"If you do a good job maybe I will fuck you after," Gerard said.</p>
<p>"Yes, plea-" Frank started, but Gerard interrupted him by rising up and moving forward to feed his cock into Frank's mouth. Frank made a muffled groan as Gerard pushed in further and further. His eyes closed as he focused on taking Gerard's dick and Gerard watched in fascination as Frank just <em>took</em> it. Gerard felt it when Frank started choking, his eyes watering, and still he didn't protest or try to pull away, he eagerly took every inch of Gerard's cock.</p>
<p>The wet heat of Frank's mouth was different from anything Gerard had ever felt. So far from the shameful, stolen jerk off sessions he usually did when the need overwhelmed him, or the drunken tryst he could barely remember. This was silky smooth and tight and he could feel Frank's tongue moving against him as he started pulling out again, adding to the sensation. He pulled out until just the head was inside Frank's mouth and Frank hollowed his cheeks as he <em>sucked</em>. Gerard groaned and pushed back in, fast enough that Frank choked again, and Gerard built up to a brutal pace, alternating between quick, shallow thrusts, and fucking deep into Frank's throat and staying there for as long as Frank could take it.</p>
<p>"You're doing so well," Gerard said, brushing the hair out of Frank's red and splotchy face. It stuck to the tear tracks running down the sides of his face. There was also spit spilling out from the corners of his mouth. He looked absolutely debouched, and Gerard was the cause. "You look so beautiful." He could hear the reverence in his own voice.</p>
<p>Gerard couldn't take much more or he would come down Frank's throat, and he wasn't ready for that yet. Besides, he'd promised, and Frank had done a good job.</p>
<p>Frank whined when he pulled out completely, chasing after Gerard's cock with his head. "Shh, don't worry, I promised I'd take care of you," Gerard soothed him, patting his head and stroking his cheek. "You've done so well." Frank smiled at him, a weak but proud smile, like he was so happy he'd done a good job with what Gerard had asked of him. Gerard leaned in and kissed Frank, starting off chaste and proper, a kiss of gratitude or pride, but as soon as he tasted Frank, tasted <em>himself</em> on Frank, Gerard couldn't stop himself from licking into Frank's mouth and Frank gave just as good as he got. Their lips slid together sloppily in the mess of drool on Frank's face, but it electrified every nerve ending in Gerard's body even more than having his cock down Frank's throat had.</p>
<p>It probably wasn't a very good kiss, objectively speaking, but seeing as Gerard could count the number of kisses he'd been a part of so far in his life on one hand, he thought maybe it was alright.</p>
<p>Gerard got off Frank and stood up so he could take his pants and underwear off, before getting back to Frank. He was still hard in his underwear, and there was a wet spot on the fabric. Gerard touched it in wonder, his fingers tentative, but Frank's hips pushed up to meet him.</p>
<p>"Please," Frank said, his voice even more ruined now that Gerard has fucked his throat raw.</p>
<p>"Do you need it?" Gerard asked, running his fingers lightly along Frank's dick through his boxer shorts. Frank whined and squirmed again, trying and failing to get more friction.</p>
<p>"Don't stop!" Frank said when Gerard withdrew his hand. It was a split second decision for Gerard to swing his palm at Frank's face in a slap that echoed around the room. Frank's head snapped to the side, and his cheek immediately turned a glowing red colour.</p>
<p>"That is not how you talk to me," Gerard said, surprising himself with how cold his voice had gotten. He watched as Frank shivered, turning his head back to him.</p>
<p>"Please," Frank said again. "Please fuck me, touch me, please sir."</p>
<p>"That's better," Gerard said, and then reached for the waistband of Frank's shorts, pulling them down in one swift motion. Frank's cock sprang up, practically begging for Gerard's attention, wet and glistening at the tip. He didn't give it. Not yet.</p>
<p>Then he had a thought. He didn't know exactly how it worked, but he wondered… and he had to ask.</p>
<p>"Can you come without your cock being touched?"</p>
<p>"God," Frank groaned, squeezing his eyes shut and squirming some more. "Fuck, I can try, I've done it once before."</p>
<p>"Then you'll do it again," Gerard said, the possibility making his blood sing. "If you want to be good."</p>
<p>"Yes, sir, I will," Frank said, nodding enthusiastically. Gerard moved down the bed so he could part Frank's legs, and Frank enthusiastically helped, revealing himself, unrestrained and shameless. Gerard admired his abandon despite himself. It was so far from his own reservedness, the way he'd been taught to suppress every impulse his body brought forth, to feel shame at his own need. He looked at Frank's body, laid bare before him, no secrets, nothing hidden, just pure need and want on display for Gerard. <em>Because of</em> Gerard.</p>
<p>He pushed Frank's legs up, bending them at the knee, so Frank's hole was fully revealed to Gerard. It gave him doubts for the first time. How was this going to work? How was he supposed to fit in there and how was it supposed to be pleasurable for either of them?</p>
<p>His hesitation must have gone on for too long, because suddenly Frank spoke, "Oh come now, Gerard, fuck me like you mean it!" except the glint in his eyes made it clear to Gerard that these weren't just Frank's words. Gerard narrowed his eyes and got into position between Frank's legs, but then Frank pulled on the chains holding him and seemed to tense up. "Wait!"</p>
<p>Gerard looked at him, trying to see whether this was Frank's own choice or the demon was back in charge now, trying to pull some trick on him. He was half expecting something like that. Dealing with demons never ended well.</p>
<p>"Lube," Frank said, gesturing to the bedside table with his head. "There's some in the top drawer."</p>
<p>"Oh," Gerard said, and felt himself flush. Of course he'd need something like that, he just hadn't known. He felt like a fool. Had the guy he hooked up with before been in pain the whole time? Or had he had the forethought to lubricate the way? Gerard couldn't remember, the whole night a haze he tried hard not to think about. He opened the drawer and reached in to find the right product. He pushed aside a hand lotion and moisturiser until he found what he was looking for in a plain, clear bottle. He poured some out in his palm, cool and sticky, and then paused, not knowing what to do next. He looked at Frank who was looking at him with no apprehension, despite what Gerard had almost done earlier. So Gerard decided to slow down. He didn't have to have all the answers. He just had to find out what Frank wanted, and then decide whether he wanted to oblige him or not.</p>
<p>"Here?" he asked, settling back down between Frank's legs and gesturing towards Frank's hole. Frank was spreading his legs wider than ever, and he nodded hard. "Tell me." Frank blushed slightly, but spoke without hesitation.</p>
<p>"I want you inside me, please, your cock, your fingers, your tongue, anything, please sir." This was a whole host of possibilities Gerard had never entertained before. His <em>tongue? </em>Was that even a thing people did or just something from pornography? His fingers seemed like a good start, and Frank was practically vibrating with anticipation as Gerard ran a finger down from just beneath Frank's balls and over his hole.</p>
<p>"Like this?"</p>
<p>"No," Frank whined. Gerard found a smirk tugging on his lips. "Inside, Gerard, please, I need it."</p>
<p>"Is that how good boys talk?" Gerard had the fleeting thought he'd said a similar thing to a young boy in his church once in very different circumstances, but he pushed it aside.</p>
<p>"I'm sorry sir," Frank said. "I'll be good, I swear, just please touch me."</p>
<p>"Not like this, then?" Gerard asked while rubbing around the outside again. He could see Frank's hole clench and unclench around emptiness, and desire shot through him. He wanted to feel Frank clenching like this around his cock.</p>
<p>Frank moaned and whined as Gerard teased him. "More, please, I need-"</p>
<p>Gerard waited until Frank was babbling and then pushed at his hole with two fingers. One went in easily, but the second met a bit more resistance. He pushed it in anyway. Frank had been asking for it, hadn't he? He let out a groan as Gerard's fingers sunk in. Frank was so much <em>hotter</em> inside than Gerard had expected, gripping his fingers tight and warm. He moved slowly in and out, not sure which part of it was supposed to feel good. Bigger? Deeper? <em>Harder?</em> He tried it all, moving his fingers and paying close attention to Frank's reactions to see what he responded to and doing more - or less - of that. He teased Frank like that for a while, almost feeling like he was learning to play an instrument as he coaxed moans from Frank's body.</p>
<p>When he pulled his fingers out Frank let out another whine, and Gerard gave in to an impulse and slapped Frank on the thigh with an open palm, as hard as he could manage. Frank let out a sort of whimper-groan that Gerard didn't know what to do with, so he reached for the lube again and poured some more out into his palm. Frank was watching him with an intense expression as Gerard coated himself with the cool lubricant, finally allowing himself to find a little pleasure in his own fist. He'd been focusing on Frank, on learning his body and what made him feel good, and he'd been mostly ignoring the ache he felt in his own cock.</p>
<p>"You've done well," Gerard said, watching Frank's eyes light up. "I think you deserve a reward." He got into position again, this time feeling far more confident than before. He wasn't doing everything wrong as he'd worried. In fact he seemed to be doing some things right even. Then he was pushing inside Frank, immediately overwhelmed with hot, <em>hot, tight</em> as Frank's body gave way to let him in<em>.</em> "Oh, G-" Gerard choked out, pushing in until his hips were flush with Frank's body. Frank was moaning, one long, continuous note, as Gerard bottomed out and then pulled out again. Frank's hair was plastering to the sweat on his face so Gerard reached up a hand to tuck it away again.</p>
<p>Being inside another person, inside <em>Frank </em>was just as intense as Gerard had thought it would be, not just from how <em>good</em> it felt, but also from the knowledge of this being the closest you could get to another person, intertwined together, barely possibly to tell where one body ended and another began. He leaned down to kiss Frank again, bringing their lips together in a messy meeting of lips and hot breaths. Frank kissed him back with desperation, hips moving in abrupt little thrusts, trying to meet Gerard's every move. Gerard just fucked into Frank's heat without any thought for anything else but how good it felt. He could hear Frank's moans growing louder and higher in pitch, but it was only fuelling the feedback loop in Gerard's brain of pleasure and control.</p>
<p>He moved his hips faster and faster, a smooth glide of his cock dragging against Frank's insides, building up a feeling within him that was more intense than anything he'd ever felt before, something that felt almost monumental, and he didn't know what would happen when it finally tipped over.</p>
<p>He distracted himself by glancing down at Frank again, and saw the still fading marks his fingers had left on Frank's throat earlier. He felt a visceral reaction at the sight. Like they belonged on Frank's neck, like Gerard's mark should always be around Frank's throat.</p>
<p>It wasn't even a conscious thought that brought Gerard's hands up to Frank's throat again, barely a stutter in his hips as he did, matching his fingers up with the imprints they had left before, and then squeezing.</p>
<p>Gerard had surprised Frank, judging by the choking noises he made as his face turned redder and redder. Gerard's thrusts became erratic, his eyes locked on Frank's watching him, <em>trusting him</em>. When he finally let go, Frank sucked in a breath, again and again, moaning loudly and Gerard realised he was coming, his cock spurting between them. Gerard felt the warmness hit his stomach and he looked at Frank in wonder. He'd come without Gerard ever touching his cock. Gerard hadn't really believed it was possible, but Frank had done it, just as he had said he would.</p>
<p>"Oh fuck, Gerard," Frank said when he had stopped writhing around and moaning. Gerard had paused his movements but now he picked them up again, desperately pumping his hips into Frank as his finish came closer and closer.</p>
<p>"Frank," Gerard moaned out. "Oh God, oh Frank," and then he was coming, deep inside Frank's willing body.</p>
<p>"Yeah, come on," Frank coaxed. "Want your come inside me, wanna be full of you, please Gerard."</p>
<p>"Frank," Gerard sighed out when he was all wrung out, empty and exhausted. He fell down to the bed like a puppet whose strings had been cut, and he heard Frank give a little <em>'oof'</em> as he landed on top of him on the bed.</p>
<p>Gerard was about to fall asleep, satiated and comfortable despite everything, when Frank cleared his throat.</p>
<p>"Gerard?"</p>
<p>"Mmh?" he mumbled in response. His brain was sluggish and he could barely focus long enough to remember his own name right now, let alone anything else.</p>
<p>"Can you maybe… untie me?" Frank asked politely.</p>
<p>"Oh shoot," Gerard said, panic shooting through him as he scrambled up. With Frank's helpful coaching, Gerard was able to remember where he'd put the keys and unlocked Fran's wrists from their shackles. "Sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he chanted as he saw Frank's wrists, red and raw from pulling against the cuffs.</p>
<p>"It's okay," Frank said, reaching for something in the bedside table. "Don't worry, this is fine." He opened one of the bottles Gerard had pushed aside earlier in his quest for a lubricant, and then he helped Frank rub some lotion into his wrists, massaging the joints with care.</p>
<p>"Are you sure you're alright?" Gerard asked quietly as he worked, looking Frank over. He was pretty debauched, covered in sweat and come and with red marks around his throat and wrists and on his cheek. "I-" Gerard couldn't find the words, didn't know what he wanted to say.</p>
<p>"I promise, I'm fine," Frank said, smiling at Gerard and cupping his cheek for a moment. His fingers were warm and soft as they gently caressed Gerard's skin. "I've definitely had worse.</p>
<p>"Oh," Gerard said, blushing.</p>
<p>"And I think it worked," Frank continued.</p>
<p>"Worked?"</p>
<p>"I think the demon is gone," Frank explained and Gerard wanted to hit himself for forgetting about that.</p>
<p>"Oh! Good!" he said. "That's good, I'm glad."</p>
<p>"It was having a lot of fun toying with you," Frank continued. "It liked the thought of you carrying this burden from now on. It wanted you to suffer…"</p>
<p>"That's what they do," Gerard said simply.</p>
<p>"I'm sorry," Frank said. "This is all my fault."</p>
<p>"No!" Gerard said quickly. "It's not, not at all." Frank started rubbing his wrist again, absent-mindedly.</p>
<p>"I'm sorry that I enjoyed it, then," Frank said quietly, not meeting Gerard's eyes.</p>
<p>"That's-" Gerard started and then sighed. "I don't blame you for enjoying it," Gerard said to his lap. "I blame myself for enjoying it."</p>
<p>"You shouldn't blame yourself just because your fucked up church- I'm sorry," Frank cut himself off. "But you shouldn't blame yourself. You saved me." He put an arm around Gerard's shoulders. Gerard was becoming more and more aware of the fact that they were both naked. He didn't know what to do. He looked up and Frank was closer than he'd expected him to be. He looked in Frank's hazel eyes for a long time as he thought about what to say.</p>
<p>"Saving you… It's worth it," Gerard said. "Every time, no matter what the cost is." Frank was trailing a hand up and down the skin on Gerard's bare arm. It felt too good, and Gerard gently disentangled himself from Frank with an apologetic smile. He awkwardly found his clothes and got dressed, feeling Frank's eyes on him all the while.</p>
<p>"Gerard…" Frank said in a small voice that broke Gerard's heart. Gerard turned to see Frank sitting on the bed, his knees drawn up to his chest, his arms hugged around them. He looked small and uncertain and all Gerard wanted to do was to put his arms around him and tell him everything would be okay.</p>
<p>So he did.</p>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>find me on twitter @comrade__mikey, thanks for reading!!!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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